


May I Have This Dance

by startrekkingaroundasgard



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Comfort, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Hair Braiding, Slow Dancing, Victorian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-02 01:09:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17254796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/startrekkingaroundasgard/pseuds/startrekkingaroundasgard
Summary: Trapped in 1880s London, Lucy and Flynn try to make the best of a bad situation. As the weeks pass and rescue seems a distant dream, Flynn comes up with a way to make Lucy smile: take her to a ball and treat her like the princess he sees her to be.This was my secret santa gift to @x-voyevoda on tumblr.





	May I Have This Dance

The lifeboat would come back eventually.

There was no way that others would leave them stranded here. They were probably just having trouble fixing the malfunctions; at least that is what Flynn said, over and over. Strange that he’d be so optimistic. That was usually Lucy’s territory. But he knew she couldn’t help from thinking something terrible had happened to the team so he tried his hardest to remain upbeat for her sake.

Re-entry had been sluggish these past few trips. Rufus and Jiya had meant to fix that but Rittenhouse had had other places and jumped before they’d gotten the chance. Every night, Lucy had nightmares - definitely not visions, Flynn assured her - that the team had died. That they’d never made it back to 2018. The best case was that they were lost in time. The worst case was that they and the lifeboat were gone forever.

“They’ll be back for us,” Flynn said, handing Lucy a cup of hot water. There were no such luxuries as coffee for time travellers squatting in an abandoned building in 1887 London, especially not when they had just murdered a man - albeit only a Rittenhouse sleeper. Flynn wasn’t too worried, though. The police were overworked dealing with the aftermath of Bloody Sunday and with other riots on the way to worry about he knew no one would bother looking for them. At least that was what Lucy said, and he trusted her word on history implicitly. If she said they were okay then he believed her.

A smile played over his lips when she leant in to him, resting her head on his shoulder. She wrapped her shaking fingers around the chipped cup and let out a sigh as the warmth spread through palms.

They looked out onto their surroundings, watching the busy bustle of the streets below in silence. The stench of coal hung in the air, nauseatingly strong and absolutely inescapable. Sulfur and ammonia added a chemical taste to the smoggy air, caught on the wind from the hundreds of factories around the city. It was a far cry from the usual, rural countryside they ended up in, although the manure and urine was fairly familiar at this point.

Resisting the urge to wrap an arm around Lucy’s waist and pull her closer, Flynn knocked his knee against hers and said, “I can hear your thoughts racing. I’m telling you, they’ll be back. We’ll be back in 2018 before you can say indoor plumbing.”

It had been over a week, though. He knew Lucy was losing faith and it would be a lie to say that he was still expecting the best. The novelty of roughing it had worn off quickly. Of course, huddling for warmth in the freezing nights hadn’t been entirely awful but they’d been living in the same few stolen clothes since they’d arrived and were beginning to smell dread. Showers weren’t exactly easy to find here. What little money they’d brought with them was almost gone and the scraps of food they could afford with their last pennies were depressing at best.

They’d have to accept the truth soon. For whatever reason, the team weren’t coming back for them. Flynn held on to hope for Lucy’s sake but he wasn’t a fool. He’d already been speaking to a few of the men around the city, looking for work to support him and Lucy should they have to set up a more permanent life here. There was a factory in need of workers and while it wasn’t glamorous it should cover the bills. Flynn just wished he could give Lucy a grander life. The kind of life she deserved.

Lucy leant back and looked up to him, her brown eyes glittering with tears. “What if they don’t, Flynn?”

“They will,” he said, his confidence lower than ever.

***

A month after first setting foot in London, Lucy and Flynn were still there.

Flynn had taken that job in the factory and Lucy was working as a washerwoman, after her application for a teaching job at an all women’s school fell through. It was hard work. They were both up before dawn and it was dark by the time they returned to their small apartment. More than once Lucy had fallen asleep through dinner, only to wake up in bed the next morning when Flynn brought her her morning tea.

He always teased her on those days, claiming how he’d put his back out moving her sleepy form into the bedroom. To which, she’d always retort how time was catching up with him and that he was getting old. Sometimes, she’d even lean in and pluck a tiny grey hair from his head, smirking about how she was living with an older man.

Flynn loved the way that he face lit up during those light moments, as she briefly forgot how miserable their situation was. But then she’d remember their home, their friends, and a dark cloud would fall over her mind. He would wrap her up in his arms and hold her close until her tears dried. Lucy would rest her head against his chest, allowing the steady beat of his heart to calm her dark thoughts.

She was so fragile nowadays. It was like all that mattered to Lucy was getting through the day, sleepwalking through this awful life in the hope that one day she’d wake up somewhere, anywhere else. The hope, the spark of life he’d come to know - and love - was fading fast. In those cold moments, Flynn wanted nothing more than to kiss away her fears. To show her how loved she was by him, as if that would make things better. But he never did.

Instead, he remained content with the little intimacy they had, savouring the moments when Lucy trusted him enough to lower her walls. It was second nature to protect her when she was vulnerable; every time she hurt, Flynn felt his own heart breaking a little bit more. Every time, he swore to himself that he would find a way to make it better for them.

And one rainy evening, on his usual route back from the factory, he found a way.

He recognised the face immediately. The Lord that owned the factory was quite the vain man and had hung gigantic portraits of himself on practically every wall. His beady eyes stared down at the work floor, watching the workers run around and push themselves to the brink of exhaustion to earn pennies. It was quite disconcerting and Flynn had considered shooting the painting just to make himself feel better.

Slipping around the corner, Flynn stuck to the shadows as he followed the Lord to the nearest tailor shop. In his current state of dress he knew that he would be kicked out of the store within seconds so waited until the Lord was being taken care of by an obnoxious salesman and backtracked to his carriage.

The horses were beautiful, that had to be said. The moment that Flynn came close, they swung their heads towards him and neighed when he began to stroke their manes. Truly, he had missed being around the gentle creatures; it was an unexpected benefit of time travel, getting to spend more time with horses than he ever imagined he would, but a benefit nonetheless.

“Hey! Mr! You can’t touch ‘em!” a small voice hissed.

Flynn looked down at the young boy, no more than twelve, pulling angrily on his coat and smiled. Without a trace malice, he asked, “Why not? They like it. I’m not hurting them.”

“I’ll get in trouble…”

“I’m sorry, I’ll leave them alone.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“Do you look after them?”

The boy shifted uncomfortably, tugging on the sleeves of his suit. It didn’t fit him properly but was made out of good fabric, obviously designed to last him as he grew. His gaze darted behind Flynn, checking that the Lord and his butler were nowhere in sight before answering. “I ‘elp in the stables, Sir. Cleanin’ the ‘orses. Guardin’ ‘em when we’re out in the city.”

“The manner isn’t far from here, is it?”

“Only an hour’s ride, Sir. These are good, fast ‘orses.”

“Why is his Lordship in the city today, anyway?”

“Needs a new suit for the Christmas ball, don’t he?”

 

That was news to Flynn. If he was being honest with himself, his plan up until that point had been to hold the Lord at gunpoint and demand payment. He’d have used the cash to buy Lucy something pretty to cheer her up but this presented a much better opportunity. This would be way more fun.

Keeping his tone casual, despite recognising that the child wasn’t entirely fooled by his easy attitude, Flynn stroked the nearest horse’s head when he swung it about in a vie for attention. “Who’s invited?”

Distracted by the astonishing way the horses were responding to Flynn’s gentle touch, the child answered, “Everyone, Sir. All the noblemen around. ‘Undreds, cook reckons. Even a few from cross the sea. ‘S’a really big event. If you don’t mind me asking, where you from, Sir? You talk real strange.”

“Prussia.”

The young boy frowned, almost certainly having no idea where Prussia actually was. “Why’re you over ‘ere then?”

“We ran into a few problems while we were travelling.”

“We? You got a pretty wife with you, then?”

“She’s beautiful,” Flynn said, smiling to himself.

“Keep ‘er away from his Lordship, then. The Lady of the ‘ouse says he likes pretty women too much but you didn’t ‘ear that from me.”

“Your secret is safe with me.” From behind, Flynn heard the Lord’s annoyingly pompous voice as he shouted at his butler and sighed. Looking down at the kid, he asked, “The foreign guests - the nobles from over sea - where are they staying?”

“Claridge’s. The boat don’t come in to dock until next week, though.”

Flynn dug into his pocket and pulled out a few pennies, dropping them into the boy’s hand as a thank you for all the information he’d provided. Practically half way down the street, not wanting to be seen by the Lord, he called over his shoulder, “Take good care of those horses!”

Instead of heading home as he’d planned, Flynn took a long detour. He visited each of the docks in the area, slipping unseen into the records offices to scan for the expected arrivals of the foreign nobles. His search lasted well into the night but he found he didn’t mind all that much; the ports were quieter and there were fewer men to deal with as they unloaded the final shipments for the day.

Eventually he found the information he was looking for and, after another quick loop around to Claridge’s to talk to the poor man working the graveyard shift, made his way back to the apartment. He was so consumed by his thoughts that he was caught completely unprepared when he stepped in from the damp cold and Lucy appeared almost instantly in front of him and started shouting at the top of her voice.

“Where have you been? I have been so worried!” she yelled, thumping her fists against his chest. Fresh tears rolled down her cheeks and her entire body was shaking. “Do you have any idea what time it is? I thought something terrible had happened to you. I thought you’d died, Flynn!”

He waited patiently for her to run out of steam, knowing that he absolutely deserved this for making her worry. When Lucy’s words became nothing more than broken whispers, Flynn wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head. “I’m sorry. I’m here now. It’s okay.”

“Don’t ever do that to me again,” she said, her words muffled against his chest. “Where were you?”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s late. We should get to bed.”

Their bed was barely big enough for two people but they’d made do so far, each sticking to their own side of the thin mattress. The close proximity and the tattered blankets kept them warm enough that they didn’t need to snuggle, which helped avoid having the inevitable, awkward conversation about their changing relationship.

Tonight, though, they both knew Lucy needed more than a comfortable silence between them.

Lucy lay resting her head on Flynn’s chest and he held her close, slowly caressing her arm, drawing random patterns until she was completely relaxed. She mirrored his gentle touch, tracing circles over his chest. Every light brush set his nerves on fire and he could barely believe how much she affected him.

Exhaustion over the long day began to take its toll and Flynn slowly edged towards sleep. His eyes drifted shut, the sound of Lucy’s slow regular breaths, of her heart beating in time with his, carrying him away. He felt Lucy shift against him but didn’t open his eyes, expecting her to roll away and return to her side of the bed.

However, instead, she placed a gentle kiss on the base of his neck. Her lips lingered for a moment before she returned to her original position against his chest. Her words barely audible over his heart suddenly pounding in his ears, Lucy whispered, “I’m so glad you’re safe, Garcia. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

***

“Flynn, this is amazing! But do I want to know how you got these?” Lucy asked, staring in amazement at the invitations in her hand.

“They were very difficult to get a hold of, believe me. I had to kill a man.” Flynn hid behind his hand as he laughed at her scandalised expression. Waving it in the air, he assured her that he had (probably) done no such thing. It was true that he’d gone through a lot of effort to obtain them though.

Instead of going to work at the factory, he’d gone to the docks and bribed the dock-master to let him work as crew for the incoming Prussian nobles’ ship. Once he had access onto the boat, it hadn’t been difficult to find the Count and Countess (exceptionally minor royals, distant cousins in the Hohenzollern house) and guide them to a carriage which was to take them all the way up to Scotland instead of to Claridge’s - to whom he’d sent word that the nobles would no longer require their suite so that they wouldn’t raise any alarms when they did not show.

With them out the way, it had been a simple matter of coercing their servant to hand over their important documents, break into their luggage and steal their best clothes for the ball tonight. Smuggling the fancy wear back to their place in one of the roughest parts of London had been less easy but Flynn had survived worse situations and made it back with everything (including, most importantly, himself) in one piece.

Taking the gold pressed invitation from her hands, he guided her in to the bedroom where he had laid out her gown, in its many glorious layers of the finest burgundy silk, for the evening. Lucy ran over and held it up in front of her body, grinning and laughing as she twirled around like a kid in their Cinderella dress. Running her fingers over the delicate embroidery, she said, “It’s beautiful.”

“I’m glad you like it,” Flynn said, leaning against the doorframe as Lucy continued to sway the fabric around. Every time he laid eyes on her, he was struck by how beautiful she was. Even in rags and with dirt on her face, fighting off the shadows and darkness in her mind, Lucy was so beautiful. Her strength, her resilience. That was what made her so irresistible.

But now, smiling and laughing and happy, Flynn’s heart was overflowing with the knowledge that he had been able to make her feel this way. After everything they’d been through, for him to finally get something right was the best thing ever. “I only steal the best for you.”

“I’ll need help getting in to it and sorting my hair,” Lucy said boldly, although that confidence faded the moment she met Flynn’s gaze. Misinterpreting his stiffness for reluctance, she said “I mean, if you don’t mind…”

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he assured her, “Trust me, I don’t mind.”

Flynn turned his back so that she may change the under layers of her outfit in privacy, using the precious minutes to calm his racing mind. His thoughts were flying and he was ashamed to say that many of the scenarios playing out in his imagination were not all that honourable. Thankfully he managed to collect himself by the time Lucy had changed and crossed the room towards the bed.

He sat in the centre of the bed, his legs spread either side of Lucy as she perched on the edge of the mattress to allow him the best access to her hair. Very gently, he ran his fingers through her dark locks, starting at the bottom and working upwards to untangle the numerous knots which had accumulated over the past few days.

As he worked out the knots and kinks, Lucy’s shoulders dropped and she rested a hand on his knee, stroking the inside of his thigh. It may have been an absent minded gesture on her part but it was all Flynn could think about. Her gentle touch distracted him so much that he had to pull the half finished braid loose and begin again from the top.

“You’re good at this,” Lucy said, meeting his gaze in the small mirror on the wall.

“Iris used to love it.” His smile fell as it always did when he remembered his little girl but, not wanting to bring Lucy down from her good mood, especially as it was so rare nowadays, he rested his chin on her shoulder and said, “You are a far more cooperative model, though. She used to fidget nonstop. Getting her to sit still for five minutes… It drove me crazy.”

In the moment that followed, they were both suddenly very aware of how close they’d gotten. Lucy had at some point shuffled backwards and was now leaning right up against Flynn’s chest. His arms had come to rest around her waist, nothing more than the thin chemise covering her body between them, and his lips were hovering dangerously close to her neck.

Lucy breathed his name like a prayer, begging him to do something. He wanted to. God knows he wanted to. However, as always, Flynn pulled back and murmured that they needed to get moving or they’d miss the party. He didn’t miss the way she sighed and sat up a little straighter than before.

Once her hair was tightly and beautiful braided, Flynn helped lacy Lucy’s corset. His fingers deftly tugged on the cords at her back, effortlessly pulling the panels together. Obviously Lucy was slightly thinner than the Countess from whom the dress had been stolen, a fact for which they were both grateful. It meant Lucy could breathe without the sturdy bones digging in to her ribcage and Flynn didn’t have to constantly worry about the possibility of her passing out.

After that, the many layers of skirts and finally the bodice, which Flynn also helped tie at the back. Nervously stepping away from him, wobbling a little as she fought to manage the layers of peticoats and crinoline, Lucy asked, “How do I look?”

He answered instantly, realising that he had never spoken the words always in his thoughts. He had danced around them a few times, perhaps, but never said them outright. Looking at her now, though, there was no doubt in Flynn’s mind. “You look beautiful, Lucy.”

She smiled at the ground, eyes sparkling with joy, and in that second Flynn resolved to tell her every day just how amazing she was if it meant Lucy would look at him that way again.

“Isn’t this when you’re meant to tell me I look very handsome, too?” he asked.

Lucy laughed, tilting her head to the side as she examined his incredibly made suit. She closed the gap between them and tugged on his dark, burgundy waistcoat with a smirk. Straightening his neck tie, she stretched up on tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “Very handsome. Although…”

“Although what?”

“Your hair looks far too messy for a Count,” she pointed out, running her fingers through the dark strands in what he assumed was an attempt to tidy him up. Judging by the smirk on Lucy’s face when she pulled away, Flynn was certain that it had indeed achieved the opposite. Where before he might have passed as a rogue-ish sort of gentleman, he was now sporting the very definition of post-sex hair.

Frantically raking her fingers through his hair, muttering “I can totally fix this” over and over, Lucy eventually had no choice but to admit this was beyond her powers. “Sorry,” she said, grabbing the top hat on the edge of the bed and balancing it on his head. “There. All fixed. No one will know, now.”

“What about when I take the hat off?”

She thought about it for a moment before reaching her ultimate conclusion of: “Just don’t take it off.”

Once the final touches had been added to each of their outfits - elbow high, silk white gloves and a shining necklace for Lucy; a beautifully engraved, and also stolen, pocket watch for Flynn - they deemed themselves almost acceptable for Victorian high society. Then they headed downstairs and found a carriage to take them to the country estate.

The roads were horrendously uneven and the cart was far from comfortable. With the sheer amount of space required for Lucy’s skirt, she and Flynn were pressed up right against eachother, not that either really minded all that much. Thankfully, the ride took just over an hour so they weren’t trapped in the tight carriage for too long.

When they arrived, Flynn jumped out of the carriage and offered Lucy his hand to help her down. She oh-so-delicately placed her gloved hand in his, smiling gratefully for the steady hand he rested on her back. After paying the carriage driver, who had obviously been expecting more of a tip from a pair of well dress nobles, they linked their arms together and headed down the path towards the Lord’s grand manor.

Lucy was blown away by the decor of the manor from the first moment they stepped inside. It was hardly the first grand home they had snuck into but it certainly put the rest to shame. Everything was red and gold and huge pieces of intricately carved wood or marble. Trinkets from the colonies and centuries old, native art stolen from their rightful owners which served one purpose only: to show off the obnoxious wealth that the family possessed.

While Lucy stared open mouthed at the paintings on the wall, Flynn handed their invitations to the butler of the house. The gentleman frowned as he glanced up from the names on the card, Lucy and Flynn’s faces obviously not the ones he was expecting to see.

Scrambling for an explanation, Flynn said, “The Count and Countess were unavoidably detained so sent us to represent the house instead. He sent me with the family seal to prove our legitimacy.”

The butler examined the golden pocket watch which Flynn presented, noting the correct seal on the back. He still didn’t seem quite convinced but between the fact that the pair were well dressed, sporting a legitimate invitation and Flynn’s obviously not English accent, he accepted the excuse and welcomed them in to the house.

“That was close,” Lucy said, linking her arm with Flynn’s once again. “That was real quick thinking.”

“It was nothing. We’ve been in far worse spots.”

Drawn by the beautiful music, the pair headed towards the ballroom. An ocean of people filled the floor, stoic, darkly dressed gentlemen amid a moving mass of bright and beautiful dresses. They stood and watched for a while as Lucy picked out all of the famous historical figures in the room like it was some enormous game of where’s wally.

Stealing glances at each other whenever they could, Flynn had to pretend that his heart didn’t skip a beat every single time she met his gaze and smiled.

“May I have this dance?” he asked, offering his hand as a new piece of music began. Lucy accepted more than willingly and let him lead her to the floor. As he took a hold, Flynn wished that he never had to let go. Feeling her body against his, it was like they’d been made for each other; like they were two pieces of a puzzle fitting perfectly. Only, a large piece and a small piece.

Guessing his thoughts, Lucy pinched him in the arm and said indignantly, “I am not short. You are just very tall.”

Flynn rolled his eyes, not really sure how to counter that, before beginning to twirl her around the floor. Unfortunately, high society Victorian ballroom dances were something that neither he nor Lucy had much knowledge on. Instead of floating effortless around the floor, weaving between other partners and following a secret higher pattern, they crashed into almost everyone around them.

More than once Lucy stepped on Flynn’s toes with her heels and he spun her around so quickly that she bumped into a nearby group of ladies and one to spill her drink down the front of her dress. Lucy was mortified and tried to offer an explanation but Flynn pulled her away before she could make it any worse.

Hidden in the middle of the crowd to avoid the poor woman’s wrath, they attempted - and failed spectacularly - to copy the steps of those around them. However, when it became clear that they really didn’t belong, the pair slipped away, laughing hysterically over how Lucy had almost broken the toe of a future Kaiser.

Standing in the corner of the room, hidden away from the rest of the party, they slumped against the wall to regain their composure. As Lucy crosed her arms over her chest, Flynn couldn’t help but track the way the sleeve to her dress slipped off her shoulder. He instinctively reached out to push it back into place, his fingers lingering a moment longer than necessary.

As he pulled away, they were struggling to breathe, that tiny touch rattling them both to the core. The silence between them was filled by a gentle waltz, far more recognisable than any other of the pieces that had been played thus far.

“I think you still owe me a dance,” Lucy said, draping her arms lightly around his neck.

Flynn wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her as close as he could with that ridiculous skirt in the way. They swayed in time to the music, glad to be away from prying eyes. The rest of the world didn’t matter when it was just the two of them, together. They barely noticed when the music stopped playing.

Barely more than a whisper, Lucy looked up to him and struggled to find the words they both so desperately wanted to say. “Garcia, I…”

Hearing he name fall like that from her lips, Flynn couldn’t help himself. He bent down and kissed her. She stiffened in his arms and, for a terrible second, he thought he’d ruined everything. That maybe he’d gotten things wrong and she simply didn’t care for him that way.

But then Lucy kissed him back. She knocked the ridiculous top hat off his head and pushed him against the wall, threading her fingers through his already messy hair. It was hot and passionate but that gave way to something softer, sweeter. She traced her fingers along his jawline, a lazy smile on her face. “Merry Christmas, Garcia.”

“Merry Christmas, Lucy.”

Flynn knew then that no matter what happened now, whether the team came back to find them or not, that it would be okay. He had Lucy and she had always had him, and that was everything they needed to make life worth living.

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first timeless fic, I hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
